


what doesn’t kill me (makes me want you more)

by beautifulbane



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-11-10 18:17:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20856143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifulbane/pseuds/beautifulbane
Summary: Eddie survives. He goes back to New York and divorces Myra, but a part of him is still unhappy. It isn’t until he sees Richie a year later at Ben and Bev’s wedding that he realizes why.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> my first reddie fic hello it fandom!! these two have absolutely destroyed me and my emotional stability so i wanted to write my own take of a fix-it fic. hopefully you all enjoy!
> 
> title comes from the song ‘cruel summer’ by taylor swift which i’ve been playing 24/7

Eddie spends quite some time recovering in Derry’s hospital, after the final fight with IT.

Bill is regretful, but says he has to leave a few days later. Deadlines to meet, a movie to get finished. Ben and Bev leave after about a week. Mike stays the longest, two weeks, despite Eddie’s insistence that he’s been in Derry long enough. It’s time for him to leave. Which he does, packing his things and driving down the East Coast to Florida.

And then there’s Richie. Richie, who doesn’t even entertain the thought of leaving. Who’s there in the hospital chair beside him when Eddie wakes up, and stays there until he goes to sleep at night. Eddie doesn’t know how he gets any sleep. Maybe he doesn’t.

Richie says he stays because he doesn’t want Eddie to be alone, especially after everything that happened to him. Eddie thinks that’s true, but he also thinks that Richie doesn’t want to be alone, either.

It’s good, having Richie there. Eddie feels like shit most days, but then there’s Richie, cracking some stupid joke to make him smile. When Eddie’s feeling up to it, they talk — and there’s a lot to talk about. Twenty-seven years worth of stuff. Talking about it makes Eddie realize how much he’s missed Richie. He can’t believe he spent close to three decades of his life not even able to remember him.

If Eddie isn’t feeling up to talking, Richie will sometimes tell him wild stories about Hollywood and being a sort-of celebrity. And Richie has _plenty_ of wild stories.

“Won’t your manager be mad at you?” Eddie asks, one day.

Richie furrows his eyebrows. “Mad about what?”

“You know. Bill, Ben and Bev all had to go back to their jobs. Why don’t you?”

“I don’t even know if I have a job anymore, Eds,” Richie says, letting out a low chuckle.

Eddie’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t correct him about the nickname.

“When I first heard from Mike and found out that we all had to go back to Derry, it was right before a show. A huge, sold out show in the Chicago Theater. And I completely fucking blew it. Couldn’t even remember my first joke,” Richie says.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie apologizes. “To be fair, though, the jokes they wrote for you were pretty shit.”

Richie lets out a surprised bark of laughter, but then he’s nodding in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right. It was bad. I think — I think it’s time for me to start writing my own shit, you know? Do my own thing.”

Eddie nods, smiles. Because he’s tired, he doesn’t even hassle Richie about his own jokes not being funny. He just says, “I think that’d be nice,” and is rewarded with a bright smile from Richie.

* * *

As much as Eddie is ready to get out of the hospital, he hates to admit that there’s a part of him that isn’t ready to leave. Because he knows what that means; leaving Richie. He’s gotten so used to the world they’ve created here, that he isn’t ready to go back to the real world. That is, New York, and Myra. 

Myra. _God_. Eddie had barely spoken to her since he’d been in the hospital. She’d probably sent him over a hundred messages, and he had sent her...one. A text that said _Am fine. Don’t worry about me. C u soon._ Yes, he was aware that was incredibly shitty, but Myra seemed to drain the life right out of him. And he needed all of the energy he could get to recover.

That‘s what Eddie told himself, anyway. He’s pretty sure he was just too wrapped up in his bubble of _RichieRichieRichie. _

Once Eddie is released, and he and Richie walk out the double doors of the hospital, Eddie takes a moment to just..._breathe_, and take in the fresh air.

“I think I forgot what fresh air felt like,” Eddie says, opening his eyes to see Richie smirking at him.

“Sure you did, drama queen.”

Eddie scoffs. “I’d like to see how _you _respond to getting impaled by a demon clown and having to spend almost a month in the hospital. Pretty sure you would be feeling the fresh air, too.”

Richie grimaces at the memory. “Yeah, okay. Take all the time you need.”

Eddie shrugs, continuing to walk to the parking lot. “Well I’m done, now.”

He hears Richie snicker behind him before he catches up with him, the two of them walking together. They walk in silence, and not the comfortable kind. It feels awkward, heavy. Like they both want to say something but are unsure what.

Eddie decides to break it. “I have a flight back to New York first thing tomorrow morning. It takes off of at 8 a.m., so I’m gonna try to be there around six-ish.”

Richie looks over at him, his eyes going wide behind his glasses. “Oh,” he says, clearing his throat slightly. “I didn’t, um. I didn’t realize you were leaving so soon.”

“What are you talking about?” Eddie asks.

“I just - I mean - you’re more than welcome to stay at the townhouse for a while. While you recover. You’re not 100% better yet, and there’s plenty of room in the townhouse. Too much room, honestly,” Richie rambles.

Eddie shakes his head. “I have a job to get back to. I mean, my whole life is in New York. And I’ve been gone for _way too long.” _

“Right,” Richie says. He doesn’t meet Eddie‘s eyes as he adds, “I’m sure the Mrs. must really miss you.”

The words take Eddie by surprise. Why is Richie so obsessed with him having a wife? Is it just another way for Richie to tease him?

“Yeah, she’s...” Eddie trails off. He winces at the thought of all his missed calls and text messages. “She’s worried sick.”

Richie nods wordlessly. They get to Richie’s rental car (that stupid red convertible) and are both silent as they step inside. Eddie doesn’t even listen to music much, but he turns on the radio just to try to break some of the awkwardness during the silent ride back to the townhouse.

It doesn’t work. Eddie has no idea how they could go from talking every day in the hospital to...this.

When they get to the townhouse, Eddie steps out of the car, as does Richie. A yawn escapes Eddie’s mouth before he can stop it.

“I think I’m gonna get some rest before my day tomorrow. It’ll probably feel really busy since I’m so used to doing nothing,” Eddie says with a quiet laugh.

Richie nods, offers him a small smile. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

He looks like he wants to say more, but instead he locks his car and walks over to the front door of townhouse.

Eddie‘s shoulders slump. He’s not sure why he feels so disappointed. 

* * *

Eddie is up the next morning by 5 a.m., and it’s 5:30 a.m. by the time he’s lugging his two suitcases down the steps. He’s surprised to see that Richie is already up too, knocking back a cup of coffee like his life depends on it. It makes something twist in Eddie’s chest, that Richie would wake up this early just to see him off. Especially because he knows that Richie is _not _a morning person. 

“You didn’t have to get up,” Eddie says, feeling slightly bad.

Richie shakes his head. “I wanted to. I mean, who knows? Might be another twenty-seven years before we see each other again.”

The words make Eddie’s heart hurt. The thought of all that time passing again without Richie in his life is...awful.

“That’s not true,” Eddie says, trying to convince himself. “IT is dead, and the other losers said they all still remember everything. We won’t forget each other like we did last time.”

Richie nods. There’s a barely-there smile on his lips. Eddie lets out a sigh as he sets his suitcases down, crossing the room briskly. He wraps his arms around Richie’s middle before he can lose the nerve, closing his eyes as his head rests against Richie’s shoulder. He can feel the way Richie stiffens in surprise but it’s only for a second, and then his arms are wrapping around Eddie’s shoulders, completing the hug. He’s gentle about it, no doubt being mindful of Eddie’s stitches. It feels...good. _Right, _being in Richie’s arms like this, but Eddie tries not to think about it.

“Take care of yourself, Rich,” Eddie whispers.

He feels Richie’s thumb brush lightly against the back of his shoulder. “Yeah, you too, Eds.”

Eddie backs away so Richie can see him roll his eyes. “That’s _not _my name,” he says, but he’s smiling nonetheless. He realizes how close he and Richie still are and ducks his head down, taking a few steps back. His heart is fluttering wildly in his chest.

“I’ll, uh, text you,” Eddie says lamely as he makes his way back over to his suitcases, ignoring Richie’s curious gaze. “When I get back to New York.”

He doesn’t say home. New York has never been his home, at least not really. Even Derry didn’t completely feel like home until he became friends with Bill, Stan and Richie, and then eventually the other losers.

Richie nods. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

As Eddie is walking to the door, a memory comes to his mind. One he hasn’t thought of in over twenty-seven years. It was after his mom had told him that the two of them were leaving Derry. Eddie had told her that he was spending his last night in Derry at Bill’s (the only one of his friends she not-so-secretly approved of) and had instead gone to Richie’s. The two boys had held each other like their lives depended on it and just cried, promising that no matter what they would stay in touch.

Of course, they hadn’t.

Eddie is glad that his back is to Richie, because he winces at the memory, all of those emotions coming back to him full force. _God, _why would that memory come back to him _right now _of all times?

“Okay,” Eddie says once he’s at the front door, more to brace himself than anything else. “I’ll see you later,” he says, looking back at Richie.

Richie smiles at him, and it actually looks genuine this time. “Bye, Spaghetti Man.”

Eddie groans and flips him off before walking out of the door, hearing Richie’s laughter behind him as he does. He is _so annoying, _but Eddie can’t bite back the wide smile on his lips.

* * *

The flight back to New York goes by smoothly enough. It takes less than two hours to get from Derry to Manhattan, so Eddie’s flight is landed just a few minutes after ten. The first thing he does is text Richie that he made it safely, to which Richie responds with a shit ton of smiley face emoji’s and a thumbs up. Eddie shakes his head, smiling, and pockets his phone. He thinks about what’s to come with Myra and his smile almost instantly drops. He’s not looking forward to the inevitable questioning and arguing. All he and Myra seem to be good at is arguing with each other. 

He calls a cab once he’s outside of the airport, and his fingers tap nervously against his pantleg the entire ride. Eddie knows that he has no one to blame for this situation except for himself. He easily could have called and talked to Myra, to reassure her that he was okay. But he had _dreaded_ even the thought of talking to her, of putting up with her nagging.

That probably wasn’t healthy. No, it definitely wasn’t. Eddie wasn’t going to pretend that he and Myra had ever had the healthiest relationship.

He tips the cabbie probably more than he should due to nerves and pulls his suitcases out of the trunk. Even though he’s sure his stitches are going to be screaming, he lugs them up the steps to he and Myra’s townhouse. He enters the security code before opening the front door, stepping inside.

Eddie sets his suitcases down with a heavy huff. He is _not _taking those upstairs to he and Myra’s bedroom.

Myra must hear him because she quickly walks out of the living room, her eyes widening at the sight of him. “Eddie, what on _Earth _happened to you?” She yells, her voice already turning shrill.

Eddie winces at the tone. Here it goes.

“Look, I know it seems bad,” he starts, to which Myra lets out an indignant noise. “But I’m okay. Really. It’s just...I went back to my hometown, right? And, crazy story, my high school bully kind of broke out of prison while I was there-“

Myra’s eyes go wide. “And he _stabbed you_?”

“Twice, actually,” Eddie admits with a grimace. “Once in the cheek and then in the chest. That’s why I was gone for so long, Myra. I was recovering. And I’m sorry I was so bad at responding to you, I didn’t mean to be-“

Myra interrupts him, shaking her head. Eddie looks over at her and sees that her eyes are teary, which of course makes him feel like shit.

“_No, _there’s no excuse, Eddie!” She yells. “I was out of my mind with worry, and for good reason! You could have died and I would’ve had no idea!”

“I know-“

“I’m your _wife,_ I should have known what was happening to you!” She hesitates, her eyes narrowing. “You said you were meeting up with some childhood friends. Were they there with you?”

Eddie nods, unsure of what exactly she’s getting at.

“And they didn’t try to protect you?” Myra screeches. “I’m telling you, Eddie. This is why you need me around. I _never_ would have let this happen to you. I know how fragile you are, how you need someone to protect you.”

Myra moves forward as if to hug him, but Eddie takes a step back as if he’s been slapped. 

_You’re too weak. Too fragile. Too delicate. That’s why you have me. I’m all you’ll ever need, Eddie Bear. That’s why you can’t ever leave me._

His mom’s words play on a loop in his head. Eddie hadn’t even _remembered that_ until right now. The fake pills. How she had always made him feel so weak and incompetent, so that any time he felt scared, he went crawling right back to her. So that he wouldn’t ever leave her. And now here was Myra, repeating the exact same words that his mother had used on him multiple times throughout his childhood.

The thought makes him sick to his stomach. He feels like he might hyperventilate.

“Eddie? Sweetie? What’s wrong?” Myra asks, already preparing to coddle him. “Is it your wound? You really shouldn’t be standing for so long with your-“

“_No!_” Eddie says sharply, so sharply that Myra takes a step backwards, her eyes going wide in surprise. “No,” he repeats, this time quieter. “I’m not fragile. I’m not weak. You don’t get to call me that. And I guarantee you what happened in Derry would have happened even if you were there. This world is a shitty place, Myra. Sometimes bad things happen, and there’s no way to control it. That’s life.”

Myra shakes her head. “You were reckless,” she chastises. “And you didn’t have anyone there who cared about you the way I do, who could have protected you-“

“I don’t need your protection!” Eddie yells, and is surprised to find tears welling in his eyes. Myra looks surprised, too. “I’m _forty years old_, and I’ve been...fucking _coddled _my entire life!” The harsh reality of that comes crashing down around and he lets out a sharp, humorless laugh.

”This isn’t healthy, Myra,” he says quietly. “It never has been. I should’ve known better when my fucking mother introduced us.”

Myra gasps at him. “Eddie, _what_ are you talking about? Your mother was a lovely woman! That’s no way to talk about her.”

Eddie shakes his head, smiling bitterly. “No, she wasn’t. She had some serious problems after my dad died. And instead of getting help, she fucked me up, too.” He closes his eyes and rubs tiredly at his face. He’s so _tired_. He’d just made it through hell and back, only to realize he’d created his own personal hell decades ago.

He can’t believe what he’s about to say, but he knows he has to do it.

“I think we should separate,” he says, and then it’s out there. Eddie feels a weight immediately lift from his shoulders. _Holy shit_. He really just said that.

Myra clearly does not share his elation.

“_What?_” She shrieks. “_Why_ are you saying this? Was it your friends? They filled your mind with all these crazy thoughts, didn’t they?”

Eddie thinks of Richie’s hand on his shoulder, the soft tone of his voice as he told him, “You’re braver than you think.” How Eddie had then been able to fucking _stab Pennywise_ and save Richie’s life. He thinks of Bev, telling him he could kill monsters, as he long as he believed he could. That wasn’t crazy. It was true, and _real._

“No,” Eddie says. “Going back home, almost _dying_, it...it made me realize I shouldn’t be in a marriage that fills me with fucking dread.”

Myra gapes, clearly ready to interrupt, but Eddie stops her.

“You can’t even say this is healthy, Myra. All we do is argue with each other. You control every single aspect of my life, and the worst part is I just _let you do it_. I can’t be in a marriage like that. Not anymore.”

Myra shakes her head. Her eyes are teary. “You don’t mean that. You’re tired, and hurt, you just need to rest-“

“I’m not changing my mind about this,” Eddie says firmly. He looks down at his suitcases and sighs. “I’m staying at a hotel tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow to get the rest of my things.”

Myra’s full on sobbing now, which of course makes Eddie feels terrible, but he means it. He’s not changing his mind about this. No more coddling, no more manipulation, no more arguing. It almost sounds too good to be true.

“I’m sorry, Myra,” he whispers, and opens the front door back up. He lugs his suitcases back down the steps (Lord help him), ignoring Myra’s shouts of protest behind him as he calls yet another cab.

It isn’t until he’s settled into his hotel room that the reality of everything that just happened truly hits him. His mother abused him during his childhood. He forgot about that abuse and slipped right back into that cycle as an adult, marrying a woman who treated him just like his mother had treated him as a child.

Eddie plops down on his bed, puts his head in his hands, and cries.

***One year later***

Eddie sighs as he opens the door to his apartment. He kicks his shoes off and sets his keys on the counter, distractedly skimming through his mail. He‘s exhausted, but that‘s not anything new. He‘s really starting to believe what Richie had said about his job being invented before fun. Every day seemed to take more of a toll on him.

His phone dings in his pocket, and it causes him to frown. The losers had started a groupchat about a year ago to keep in touch with each other, and while it was nice to see what everyone was up to, it was easy to see how much Eddie’s life paled in comparison.

Ben and Bev were still going strong, and when they weren’t busy exploring the world on Ben’s yacht (_yeah_...), they were occupied with their massively successful careers as an architect and a fashion designer, respectively.

Mike had settled into Florida quite nicely. He was constantly sending the losers pictures of the beaches, the beautiful sunsets and just about anything else he found to be interesting. One time he had sent a picture of an alligator on his back porch, and the rest of the losers had promptly lost their shit.

Bill’s career as a writer had become even more successful, which Eddie didn’t even believe could be possible. It was definitely because he had figured out how to write a satisfying ending. When the losers had asked what’d changed, he’d gotten all cryptic, saying he’d just needed a change of scenery. Whatever _that _meant.

And then there was Richie...Richie’s career had done a complete 180°. Eddie remembered Richie telling him back in the hospital that he‘d wanted to start writing his own material, and that was exactly what he‘d done. It was a good thing he had, too, because he became even more popular. A part of this popularity was due to the fact that he’d come out as gay, and had developed a large following from the LGBT community.

Richie had joked to the groupchat that he hadn’t expected so many people to be able to relate to a forty-year-old gay man. Eddie had stared at that message for a long, long time, even as the other losers had started to blow up his phone with messages of encouragement and happiness for Richie.

Eddie hadn’t told Richie this, but he had tuned into one of Richie’s shows after he’d come out, and the difference was undeniable. Richie was clearly more comfortable telling his own jokes, and to be able to be upfront about his sexuality.

Eddie‘s happy for him, _of course _he is. He‘s happy for all of the losers. But his own life couldn’t even begin to compete with all that the other losers had accomplished. He was stuck in a boring, dead end job that exhausted him, and he was living in a shitty apartment in Manhattan.

Yes, he’d been able to get out of his abusive marriage, which was a blessing, but...he‘s lonely. Romance isn’t really something that Eddie allows himself to think about. He tells himself that it‘s because he‘s too busy with his job, but he knows that isn’t completely true. He knows it probably goes deeper than that. There‘s a part of Eddie that fees like it‘s missing while he‘s in New York. He just doesn’t know what it is yet.

He puts most of his mail down on his coffee table, except for a fancy-looking envelope with his name written neatly across the middle. He opens it, and his mouth immediately drops open in surprise.

_You are invited to the wedding of Benjamin Hanscom and Beverly Marsh_

Holy shit. Eddie looks down at the date. _Holy shit. _It’s in two weeks?!

He sets down the invitation in favor of picking up his phone, quickly dialing Bev’s number. She picks up on the third ring.

“Hey, Eddie!” She chirps.

“Do _not ‘_hey, Eddie’ me! You’re getting _married_? In _two weeks_?” Eddie exclaims.

Bev starts to laugh, and despite his faux-outrage, Eddie can’t help but smile. It’s nice to hear how happy she sounds.

“I know, I know,” Bev says apologetically. “It’s super last minute. But we just wanted to do it, you know? And it’s not like there’s going to be a lot of people there, just the losers and some other friends. Oh, and Ben’s mom.”

Eddie nods. “Well, congratulations. You both really deserve it,” he says genuinely.

“Thank you, Eddie,” Bev says softly. Eddie can tell from the tone of her voice how much it means to her. “So can you come? Please tell me you can come.”

“Yeah, it’s on a Saturday night, which means I don’t have to work. And it’s right here in New York City, so I don’t have to go very far.”

Bev hums. “I was surprised to see you‘re still living here. I mean, you’re practically a ghost in the groupchat, so there was no way I could’ve known any different.“

“Yeah,” Eddie says, somewhat awkwardly. “I’m still here. It’s just...my life isn’t all that exciting, you know? I don’t have much going on that the losers would be interested in hearing about.”

“That’s not true, Eddie,” Bev argues. ”Personally I think it’s good just to hear your voice; to know that you’re okay.”

Eddie smiles. “Thanks, Bev. It’s good to hear yours, too. Have you heard from any of the others losers yet?”

“Yeah, Richie somehow knew about the proposal, don’t even ask me how, so he RSVP’d first. I’m still waiting on Bill and Mike to get back to me, though,” Bev answers. 

_Shit_, Richie is the only who has RSVP’d so far? That means he would be the only person at the wedding who Eddie knows, besides Ben and Bev. Which meant Eddie would be spending a lot of time with him.

Eddie’s stomach twists nervously at the thought. Besides responding to each other a few times in the groupchat, he and Richie hadn’t spoken to each other in over a year, and definitely not one-on-one.

“You there?” Bev asks him.

Eddie feels his cheeks heat up. He must have been silent for too long.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” he assures Bev. “Send Ben my congrats, okay? And I’ll see you both soon.”

“Sure thing, Eddie. See you soon,” Bev echoes.

They end the call, and Eddie puts his phone down on the table. He should text Richie, tell him that he’s going to the wedding too, but...he can’t work up the nerve.

Eddie tells himself that he’ll see Richie soon enough, and it’ll be..._fine_. Completely fine. Eddie doesn’t even have anything to worry about.

* * *

Eddie’s of the mindset that he doesn’t have anything to worry about until he actually arrives to the venue. It’s not that it’s intimidating or anything, it’s at a place called the Sunset Terrace and it actually seems quite intimate. What really makes it stand out is the breathtaking view of the Hudson River surrounding it. 

So, no, it’s not the venue that’s intimidating, but more so what’s inside of it. He wonders if Bill and Mike were able to make it. If Richie is currently inside there.

Eddie feels stupid, just standing outside the venue, waiting to go in. He‘s not sure why he’s so nervous. He knows he looks good, in his fitted royal blue tux, white button up and matching blue tie. So why can’t he just...go inside?

He’s about to finally take the leap when he hears a voice say, “Eddie,” behind him. Eddie’s breath catches in his throat and a chill runs down his spine. He quickly turns around, expecting to _somehow_ see a killer clown, except...it’s Richie fucking Tozier.

“Asshole!” Eddie yells immediately, reaching forward to smack Richie in the arm. “That wasn’t funny!”

Clearly Richie doesn’t agree with him, because he’s full on cackling, head thrown back in laughter. Eddie takes him in for a moment while Richie is busy laughing. He’s in a black tux, with a white button up and black bow tie. His hair has gotten a little longer since the last time Eddie saw him, and it’s styled nicely. He looks...good. Eddie didn’t realize how much he had missed Richie until he was stood right in front of him, so much so that his chest aches with it.

That thought makes Eddie’s pulse spike more than Richie’s Pennywise voice had. _Shit_, he thinks to himself. Suddenly it makes sense why he‘d been so nervous to see Richie again.

“Eds?” Richie asks, and Eddie blinks out of his thoughts, looking up to meet his eyes. He looks a bit nervous. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to actually scare you. I just thought it’d be funny.”

Eddie shakes his head. He still feels a little dazed. Richie has no idea how much he just scared him, and it wasn’t because of his Pennywise impersonation.

“No, I’m okay. It’s just — it’s good to see you again, Rich,” he says earnestly.

Richie blinks in surprise at the words before his lips are turning upwards in a crooked, goofy smile. “Yeah? Well, it’s good to see you, too, Eddie Spaghetti!”

Eddie groans. “I take it back, I take it all back—“

Richie laughs again, and Eddie decides he is definitely screwed.

* * *

It turns out Bill and Mike _were _able to make it, which Eddie is immensely happy about. They save Richie and Eddie seats next to them, with Richie next to Bill and Eddie on Richie’s other side, closest to the aisle. Once they’re settled in, Eddie takes a moment to appreciate the venue. Even though it’s not the largest venue, it’s very open, with lots of windows, three of which are wall-to-ceiling. The windows allow for the view of the beautiful blue water and the nearby city lights to come through perfectly. There’s also golden fairy lights hung on the ceiling candles lit by the alter, which gives the room a nice, golden glow. He’s pretty sure Ben and Bev had planned it so that they would say their vowels right when the sun began to set on the water, since there were windows behind the alter. Eddie couldn’t even imagine how beautiful it would be. 

He’s brought out of his thoughts by Richie nudging his arm. Eddie turns to look at him, whispering, “What?”

Richie leans in to whisper into Eddie’s ear, and Eddie does not blush, he _definitely _doesn’t. Except he’s pretty sure that he does.

“Bill and Mike are totally boning,” Richie whispers.

Eddie’s still slightly flustered from the closeness, but he quickly regains his composure. “_What?”_ He repeats, this time more indignantly. “How on Earth could you know that?”

Richie gives him a _keep up_ look. “Bill is _way _tanner than when he came from Los Angeles to Derry. That’s a Florida sun tan. And what else would he and Mike be doing in Florida besides each oth—“

“Okay!” Eddie interrupts sharply. “Your point is very much made.”

He sneaks a peek over Richie’s shoulders at the two of them, and...oh, yeah. Eddie can definitely see it. Their hands are so close that they’re practically touching, and they’re leaning into each other as they speak quietly amongst themselves. Like they’re the only two people in the room.

It’s all very couple-y.

“Well, shit,” Eddie breathes, causing Richie to laugh lightly at him.

He wants to say more on the matter, but he feels bad talking about them when they’re sitting right next to him. So Eddie shuts up and waits for Ben and Bev to walk out, instead.

It’s not long after that that Ben walks down the aisle, arm-in-arm with his mom, which is really sweet. He looks as handsome as ever in a black tux and his hair perfectly styled. He takes his place at the alter, and only a couple of minutes later, “Here Comes the Bride” begins to play. Everyone stands as Bev makes her way down the aisle, looking absolutely radiant. Her shoulder-length red hair is curled, and she’s in a beautiful white gown, no doubt custom-designed by her company. She’s beaming at Ben as she walks down the aisle, though she does spare the losers a wink as she walks past them.

They give their vows, and there’s pretty much not a dry eye in the house. Bev talks about how Ben is the gentlest guy she’s ever known, and how for once in her life she doesn’t constantly feel scared anymore. She says she used to have nightmares just about every night, but now she sleeps peacefully, knowing that Ben is right there beside her. Ben talks about being in love with Bev for over twenty-eight years, and her being the only one to sign his yearbook as a kid. How he had kept that same page from his yearbook, even years later.

They both smile stupidly at each other as they recite Ben’s poem back to each other as part of their vows, and the priest then tells Ben he may kiss the bride. It’s a sweet kiss, clearly heartfelt, and it’s quite the image with the sun setting behind them as they do. Everyone cheers when they walk down the aisle holding hands, both of them laughing.

“Let’s party!” Bev yells, which makes everyone laugh along with them.

People begin moving out of the reception area and over to their assigned tables, while pop music starts playing over the loud speakers. Eddie is about to do the same, but is stopped by Richie grabbing onto his arm.

Eddie is pretty sure it causes him to blush again. _Fuck_, did they always used to touch this much? Or is Eddie just realizing it a lot more now?

“I hear there’s a free bar, you wanna take advantage of it?” Richie asks him.

Eddie immediately nods. God, does he ever. He’s not sure he’s ever wanted a drink so badly. Except maybe when he went back to Derry. And his wedding night.

He shudders. Just the thought of that night makes him want a drink even more.

The two of them make their way over to the bar, sitting on the stools next to each other.

“I’ll have a whiskey on the rocks,” Richie tells the bartender smoothly.

Eddie hasn’t had a drink in so long that his mind sort of blanks, so he tells the bartender he’ll just have the same.

Richie raises an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t take you to be a whiskey man,” he says.

Eddie shrugs. “I don’t usually drink. I don’t even know what I would like.”

Richie gives him a _look._ “So you don’t usually drink? And you ordered whiskey?”

Eddie does not like the tone of Richie’s voice. He glares at him. “Yeah? What about it, asshole?” He asks testily.

Richie huffs out a laugh. “Nothing, nothing. Just kind of seems like a bad idea to me.”

The bartender brings their drinks out to them, Eddie still glaring at Richie.

“What are you, my mom?” He asks. “‘Eddie, don’t drink, you’ll get liver cancer and die!’” He says in his best impersonation of her.

“I wasn’t saying you’ll _die_,” Richie protests, but then cuts off in surprise as Eddie knocks his drink back.

And promptly chokes. _Fuck_, he forgot how strong that shit could be. He expects Richie to laugh at him for making himself look like a complete idiot, but instead there’s a large, warm hand on his back, rubbing gently.

“Geez, Eds, you okay?” Richie asks softly.

Eddie nods quickly, clearing his throat one last time. If he isn’t gonna die from choking on his drink, then it’ll be from Richie’s hand on his back.

“I’m fine,” he rasps out. “And that’s not my name.”

Richie removes his hand from Eddie’s back and takes a slow pull from his own drink.

“See, _that’s _how you’re supposed to drink it,” he tells Eddie, clearly just to be a little shit.

Eddie huffs out in annoyance. “Well then what do you suggest I drink?” He asks.

Richie shakes his head. “Nothing. I mean, at least for right now. You just downed a whiskey in a matter of seconds, and I’m pretty sure your tolerance is, like, zero. You’re waiting.”

Eddie purses his lips. “Technically you’re not the boss of me and I could order something anyway.”

Richie’s eyes widen before he’s laughing in disbelief, shaking his head. “_Jesus_, what’s gotten into you? I’m not your mom? I’m not the boss of you? I swear, I’m not trying to control you, Eds. I’ve just had my fair share of blackouts, and I’m pretty sure you don’t want to do that at Ben and Bev’s wedding. They would never let you live that shit down.”

Eddie lets out a breath. Richie isn’t Myra. He isn’t trying to control him, but instead just genuinely trying to help him...and Eddie is being a dickhead to him.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Eddie apologizes. “I’m being a dick. I guess I’m just at that stage in my life where I don’t want anyone to tell me what to do, even if they’re trying to look out for me. Which honestly makes me sound like a teenager, but,” he shrugs, “At least I got there eventually?”

Richie is looking at him curiously. He takes another sip of his drink. “How’s that going with the Mrs.?” He asks, clearly aiming for casual.

Eddie shakes his head. “There is no Mrs. anymore. I...I asked for a divorce pretty much the second I got back to New York.”

“Holy shit, Eds,” Richie says, his eyes going to wide. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Eddie gives him a look. “Really, Richie? While Ben and Bev are talking about how happy they are together? And Mike’s sending pictures of palm trees and Bill’s talking about his new book deal? You think I should have just been like, ‘Oh, hey guys, just got a divorce, glad everything’s going great for you all, though!’”

He spares a glance at Richie and sees that he’s looking at him sadly.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Richie apologizes softly. “I didn’t think about it like that.”

Eddie shakes his head. “It’s okay. I’m happy you’re all happy.”

Richie lips twitch like he wants to say more, but he downs the rest of his drink instead. He orders another and then gives Eddie a considering look.

“Could you mix my friend up something sweet?” He asks the bartender with a charming smile. When the bartender nods, Richie turns that smile onto Eddie, and Eddie is pretty sure he actually melts.

He smiles, too, can’t help it, though he looks down at the bar in front of him and rests his head in his hands to try to hide it. Eddie’s fairly certain he hears Richie mumble “cute” under his breath.

The bartender comes back with their drinks, placing the whiskey in front of Richie and...a very pink drink in front of Eddie. Richie looks like he’s about two seconds from losing it.

“Uh, what’s this?” Eddie asks the bartender.

“Sex on the beach,” The bartender tells him, before going back to waiting on his other customers.

“Sex on the beach?” Richie repeats,a questioning lilt to his voice. “But we’re not Mike and Bill.”

It not funny. It’s absolutely not. But it takes Eddie completely by surprise, and the next thing he knows, he’s bursting into laughter. Richie beams at him and the fact that he made Eddie laugh like that, but Eddie covers his face with his hands, shaking his head.

“You’re _not_ funny. That was - that was terrible,” he insists, but when he sneaks a look over at Richie, he sees that he’s wearing a shit-eating grin.

“Right. Keep telling yourself that, Eds. You think I’m _hilarious_,” he teases.

Eddie shakes his head. “Definitely not,” he says, but they’re both smiling at each other. Eddie feels his cheeks grow warm and he quickly looks away, instead focusing on his drink. He takes a sip from it and is immediately impressed. “Wow, this is good,” he says.

“Glad you like it,” Richie says. “Maybe try not to down the whole thing in one go this time.”

“Ha, _ha_,” Eddie laughs sarcastically.

They’re quiet for a couple of minutes until Richie asks, “Do you want to talk about it?” Eddie gives him a questioning look. “Your, uh, divorce? You don’t have to, I just thought it might be nice to get off of your chest.”

Eddie nods. He debates how much he should go into it, but...it’s _Richie_. His childhood best friend. If anyone is going to understand, it’s him.

“It’s kind of fucked up,” Eddie warns him.

Richie shrugs. “More fucked up than fighting a demon clown as kids and then coming back to your hometown twenty-seven years later to kill it?” He asks.

Eddie laughs, his smile sticking to his face. He knew Richie would understand.

“Maybe not that fucked up,” Eddie relents. “Okay, so I get back to New York, and I walk into our house, and...obviously I’m still pretty messed up. I have my chest all stitched and bandaged up, same with my cheek from where Henry stabbed me. So, naturally, Myra freaks out. And she’s also going off about how I only sent her one text while I was away and didn’t respond to any of her messages. Then she says this...this _thing_, about how it wouldn’t have happened if she was there to protect me. That I’m too fragile to be without her.”

Eddie’s bottom lip wobbles and he bites down on it, shaking his head. “And I realized...I realized I married a carbon copy of my mother. How fucked up is that, Rich?” He asks, finally working up the nerve to look over at him. He half expects Richie to be looking at him like he’s disgusting, but...that’s not how he looks. Not at all. He looks sad for him, and sympathetic.

Eddie doesn’t even realize that his hands are shaking until Richie takes them into his, and Eddie feels his heart stutter in his chest.

“It’s not fucked up at all, Eddie,” Richie tells him, his voice soft. “Your mom...she abused you. And when you left Derry, you probably wanted to feel safe again. So you went back to what you knew. The only thing that’s fucked up is what your mom did to you in the first place,” he says, not even trying to hide the anger in his voice.

Eddie smiles. He’s not sure when he got this emotional, but he honestly feels like he could blink back tears. He also feels like he could kiss Richie for being so understanding, but he keeps _that _thought to himself.

“Thanks, Rich,” he murmurs, trying to convey to Richie how much it means to him.

Richie smiles at him crookedly, and they’re still holding hands, and Eddie thinks maybe...maybe Richie wouldn’t turn away if...

“What are you two doing holding hands together at the bar?” Bev asks, her voice playful and bright. It causes the two of them to break apart from each other as if they’ve been shocked.

“I was telling Richie about my divorce,” Eddie blurts out before he can think twice about it.

Bev’s smile drops some and she gives him a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” she apologizes.

Eddie shakes his head, laughing a little. “No, trust me, it was for the best,” he says.

Bev nods knowingly. Eddie remembers seeing the bruises on her arm when they were back in Derry, and it makes sense that she would understand why getting a divorce can actually be a good thing.

“Okay, good,” she says softly. “Now, come on, you alcoholics. Dinner is about to be served.”

She walks over to Ben, sneaking up behind him so she can scare him. Eddie is reminded of Richie doing the same exact thing to him when they had first arrived to the wedding, and his cheeks flush at the connection.

“Want to go sit with Mike and Bill?” Richie asks him.

Eddie nods enthusiastically. He really does not trust himself to be alone with Richie. Apparently alcohol and repression were not a good combination, who would’ve thought?

* * *

Dinner is served, and it’s really nice catching up with Bill and Mike. They confess that they are dating, but it’s still pretty new. Bill tried to make his marriage with Audra work for a couple of months after returning to Derry, but he says they both pretty much knew it was over. He and Mike had gotten into the habit of calling each other at least once a week, so Mike ended up helping him a lot through his divorce. Then, one day, Bill said he was having a bad case of writer’s block, and Mike had jokingly said he should come down to Florida for a change in scenery, that maybe it would help. 

And that was that.

“So then you guys fucked?” Richie asks.

Eddie groans, burying his head in his hands. Bill gives Richie an unimpressed look.

“Beep, _beep_, Richie,” he says, causing the four of them to all laugh.

Then it’s time for cake, and everyone laughs when Ben and Bev both smear cake in each other’s faces.

By the end of the night, Eddie is pleasantly tipsy, and incredibly warm from being surrounded by his friends. Of course, Stan is on all of their minds, and Richie gently squeezes his hand when he catches Eddie looking at the empty chair they left open for Stan.

“I miss him,” Eddie confesses, when it’s just him and Richie at the table again. Bill and Mike had gotten up to dance with each other, albeit terribly.

Richie smiles sadly. “I miss him too,” he says. “There’s honestly not a day that goes by where I don’t think about him. He should’ve been here, you know? Celebrating with us. And the fact that we didn’t even get to go to his wedding...” He trails off, and Eddie can sees tears forming in his eyes.

“I know,” Eddie says thickly. Because it seems like the right thing to do, he twines his hand together with Richie’s, holding it. A voice in the back of his head tells him that this is how couples hold hands, but he doesn’t mind. Not at all.

Richie looks down at their hands, clearly surprised, but he works up a tiny smile, too.

“It sucks,” Eddie says simply. “But I think he would’ve wanted us to be happy. That we can be here, with each other.”

Richie looks like he’s at a loss for words. “Right,” he agrees, and his voice is raspy. He then laughs shakily, shaking his head. “Jesus, Eds,” he breathes out.

Eddie gives him a confused look, begrudgingly removing his hand from Richie’s. “Is something wrong?” He asks worriedly.

Richie quickly shakes his head. “No, god no, it’s just...” He trails off, letting out a frustrated noise like he can’t think of the right thing to say. “It’s a lot,” he settles on. “Being here with you, having you hold my hand. And you’re right, we’re so lucky we can be here with each other, because you almost...” He breaks off, frowning deeply. “You almost _died_. We almost couldn’t have this right now. And I would have been here, without Stan, without you, and...”

Richie looks close to tears again, so Eddie does the only thing he can think of. He leans in and kisses him. Because he doesn’t want him to be sad. Because he’s wanted to do this all night, maybe even all of his life. Also, _possibly_ because he’s tipsy.

Richie lets out a murmur of surprise but then he’s deepening the kiss, his hand coming up to cup Eddie’s cheek. And it’s...good. _Amazing_. Eddie hasn’t ever felt this much from a kiss before, certainly not with Myra.

It takes all of his willpower to pull away, and he only does so because they’re in public. Eddie opens his eyes to look at Richie, laughing softly when he sees this eyes are still closed. Richie opens his eyes, and Eddie is taken aback by how beautiful they are this close.

“Was that just to stop me from crying?” Richie blurts out.

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow. “What? No! God, you idiot, I’ve wanted to do that all night. Ever since you scared me with that stupid Pennywise impersonation.”

Richie raises an eyebrow, and Eddie just knows he’s about to say something stupid. He can sense it.

“Oh yeah?” Richie asks. “My Pennywise impersonation get you going?”

Eddie groans, playfully shoving Richie away. “_No_, you impersonating the clown that almost killed me does _not_ get me going,” he huffs out. Then, just because he might as well, he says, “It was you laughing at yourself that I thought was cute.”

This time, it’s Richie’s turn to blush. Eddie delights in the way his cheeks turn a bright pink.

“Aw, shit, Eds,” Richie groans, burying his head in his hands. “You can’t just _say_ shit like that.”

Eddie cackles evilly, and Richie grins over at him.

“Where are you staying at tonight?” Eddie asks softly.

Richie blinks at him in surprise. The smile is no longer on his face. “Uh, some shitty hotel,” he says noncommittally.

Eddie nods. “You should stay with me,” he suggests, trying to aim for casual and definitely, definitely failing. “I mean, I’m super close by and it beats staying in a hotel. Plus we can, um..._talk_.”

Richie’s cheeks are pink again. “Yeah, yeah, talking is _great_. I love to talk.”

“Trust me, I know,” Eddie teases, but Richie just smiles at him. “Do you think the others would mind if we left a little early?” He asks.

Richie is already standing. “Nah, it’s winding down, and we’ll see everyone tomorrow. We have that brunch thing, remember?”

Eddie nods, standing up too. He tries to fight the giddy smile playing on his lips, but he can’t help it. He feels all of thirteen again. _Geez_. Only Richie could have this effect on him.

They tell Ben and Bev they’re heading out, and in return receive two of the most knowing looks in the history of knowing looks. Eddie can’t even be embarrassed.

Once they’re outside, Richie takes Eddie’s hand in his, and Eddie is so happy that he has to lean in and kiss him again. _Has to_. Feels like he wouldn’t be able to breathe if he didn’t. Yes, they are still very much in public, but Eddie figures at least they’re not inside the venue anymore. He’s waited twenty-eight years for this, damnit. Even if he didn’t realize for all of those twenty-eight that this is what was missing. What he wanted, needed, _desperately_ in his life.

They break apart again, but they’re still holding hands, Richie’s other hand cupping Eddie’s cheek and Eddie’s grasping onto the lapel of his tux.

It’s silent for a while, both of them just breathing each other in, until Richie says, “You know, at this rate, we’re never gonna make it back to your place to talk.”

Eddie tries to hide his amusement, but he’s so happy that he can’t help chuckling. “You suck,” he tells Richie, but they both know what he really means - the fondness in his voice gives him away.

He knows that the two of them really should talk. Neither of them knows what this thing between them is, and Richie lives all the way out in L.A., and up until tonight Eddie didn’t even realize that Richie had feelings for him, or even fully aware that _he_ had feelings for _Richie_.

But right now Richie is looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky, and then they’re stumbling in the back of a cab, both of them laughing like teenagers about something they can’t even remember. And it’s enough.

At least for tonight, it’s enough. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have to be honest with you,” Richie blurts out suddenly, and Eddie looks over at him, a chill running down his spine. This is it, he thinks. The letdown. The rejection. Richie telling him it was good but they’re friends, they’ve always been friends, it should stay like that. 
> 
> “My hotel wasn’t shitty,” Richie says instead. 
> 
> Eddie blinks. “What?” 
> 
> (Or, Richie and Eddie talk about their feelings and figure out where to go from here.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the final chapter!! i felt like i had to write another part because there was a lot left open at the end of the first chapter, so this kind of closes up those loose ends! i hope you enjoy!

When Eddie comes to the next morning, he’s alone in his bed. For a brief, terrifying moment, he thinks that Richie has left him, but that thought quickly goes away when Richie comes walking into his bedroom a few seconds later. 

He’s in just his boxers and a shirt Eddie had let him borrow, even though it’s slightly too snug on his broad shoulders. A piece of toast is being shoved into his mouth, and Eddie tries really, really hard not to think about the crumbs he’s probably getting on the floor.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Richie says, lifting the half-eaten piece of toast up. “I got hungry.”

Eddie shakes his head, unable to keep himself from smiling. “It’s a piece of bread. I’m not _that_ much of cheapskate.”

Richie smiles at him, too. Eddie is extremely grateful that he finishes the other half before crawling back into bed. Crumbs on the floor is one thing, but crumbs in his bed is an entirely different struggle.

Eddie’s fingers itch to reach out and touch him, just to hold onto him. But he’s not sure if that’s allowed. He’s not sure about anything right now; if last night was just a one time thing for Richie because Eddie was there and they’d had some drinks.

This is why they probably should have talked first, but...well. Eddie couldn’t bring himself to regret last night. Not at all.

“I have to be honest with you,” Richie blurts out suddenly, and Eddie looks over at him, a chill running down his spine. _This is it_, he thinks. _The letdown. The rejection. Richie telling you it was good but they’re friends, they’ve always been friends, it should stay like that._

“My hotel wasn’t shitty,” Richie says instead.

Eddie blinks. “What?” 

“Last night, when you asked where I was staying? I said some shitty hotel, but it wasn’t really shitty at all. I’m pretty sure it was, like, four and a half stars. No offense, but your apartment is way shittier.”

Eddie blinks again, still processing the words. Then he rubs his face with his hands. He’s too tired for this shit.

“Okay?” He asks. “Why are you telling me this? Also, saying no offense doesn’t make it less offensive, dickwad.”

Richie snorts, though he still seems kind of nervous. He shrugs his shoulders lightly. “I just thought you should know. I had a really nice hotel, but as soon as you asked me where I was staying, I said it was shitty. Because I thought you were inviting me back to your place. And I suddenly didn’t even care if I’d paid a shit ton for a nice hotel, if it meant I got to spend the night with you.”

Eddie feels his cheeks grow warm. Okay, he thinks he gets it now. Neither of them have ever been good at expressing their feelings, but Richie is at least trying with his hotel anecdote.

“You could have just invited me back to your hotel,” Eddie says, because he’s an asshole like that.

“Yeah, but that sounds so _sleazy_,” Richie responds, which makes Eddie roll his eyes. He leans in to press a kiss to Richie’s mouth, close-mouthed and chaste because he hasn’t brushed his teeth yet. Richie tries to deepen it, but Eddie pulls away, shaking his head.

“Morning breath,” he says as his explanation.

“Okay?” Richie says, like he doesn’t get the point.

Eddie wrinkles his nose with a groan. “_Gross_. Get up, you’re brushing your teeth with me,” he says, already rising from the bed.

Richie gets up too, following Eddie to his tiny bathroom. “Sharing a toothbrush? Seems a bit unsanitary to me, Eds.”

Eddie nearly gags at just the thought. “_No_, ew, Richie! I have a spare!” He exclaims, practically shoving an unopened blue toothbrush into Richie’s hand. “Use that. And don’t call me Eds.”

“I’m honestly not even surprised you have an extra toothbrush,” Richie says as he opens it up.

Eddie puts toothpaste on his own toothbrush, and then hands the bottle over to Richie. “It’s called being prepared,” he says matter-of-factly.

He starts scrubbing his teeth, Richie doing the same beside him. It’s such a mundane thing, _brushing one’s teeth_, and yet it’s amazing how much different it can feel with another person.

It feels...domestic. Overwhelmingly so. Eddie can imagine this as part of their morning routine, both of them side by side, arms grazing as they get ready for their day together. Richie making a face at him in the mirror to get him to laugh.

He quickly shakes that thought out of his head as he spits his toothpaste out into the sink. Clearly almost thirty years of repressing his feelings for Richie has resulted in some pretty serious pining. Last night probably didn’t help, either.

He walks out of his bathroom, instead walking over to his closet to pick out his outfit for the day. Richie walks into the room shortly after, letting out a groan when he sees that Eddie is about to get ready.

“I thought we were staying in bed and doing nothing all day,” Richie whines, plopping dramatically back down onto Eddie’s bed.

Eddie shoots him an amused look. “Why would you think that? We have brunch with the losers in less than an hour.”

“Ugh,” Richie groans again. “On a scale of one to ten, how much would you want to just ditch them and stay in bed all day?”

“Zero,” Eddie deadpans, slipping on a shirt from his closet.

Richie sits up in Eddie’s bed, a smirk on his lips. It’s amazing how he can make any space feel like he belongs there. Richie has been in his bed for not even a day and Eddie already can’t imagine him not being there.

“Geez, tough crowd,” Richie teases. He begrudgingly stands up, looking like it’s the last thing he wants to do. “I should probably go back to my hotel before brunch. If I show up in my suit from last night I will definitely not _ever _hear the end of it.”

Eddie must (embarrassingly) look panicked at the thought of Richie leaving, because then Richie is reaching out to lightly hold Eddie at arm’s length.

“Hey, I’ll be back,” he says softly. Like he gets it. Eddie thinks that he probably does. “After brunch, I can even come back here. If you want me to.”

Eddie sighs. He can feel the tension drain out of him at those words, and at the feeling of Richie’s warm hands against the skin of his bare arms.

“Of course I want you to,” Eddie confesses quietly, and then, just for good measure, “Dumbass.”

Richie laughs at him, softly, and Eddie thinks he’ll never grow tired of watching him laugh like that. Even if it is at his expense.

“Oh, Eds, you have such a way with words!” Richie says, pretending to swoon.

“That’s not my–“ Eddie starts, but then he’s cut off by Richie’s lips on his, kissing him gently. He breaks the kiss after a few seconds, but this time it’s Eddie who leans in again, deepening it. His arms wrap around Richie’s shoulders as Richie’s go around his waist, the space between them practically nonexistent now.

“Okay,” Eddie breathes after a little while, his eyes still closed. “I’ll see you at the restaurant.”

“Yeah,” Richie agrees.

Neither of them makes any effort to move away from each other.

“Ugh,” Eddie groans eventually, prying his arms away from Richie. Richie does the same, albeit unwillingly. “This is awful,” Eddie says. “We’re already insufferable.”

Richie snorts at the words, and Eddie watches with interest as he gets dressed back into his suit.

“I mean, we wasted twenty-eight years of our lives being apart. I think we’re allowed to be a _little_ insufferable now,” Richie says softly.

Eddie feels his heart flutter in his chest. Richie is making it nearly impossible for Eddie to let him leave.

And it’s not even like Eddie is letting him leave for Los Angeles. No, Eddie doesn’t even want to be apart from him for the half an hour or so it takes for him to get to his hotel and then the diner.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Eddie agrees.

Richie is dressed in his suit again. He looks good, just as good as he looked last night. He walks over to Eddie and gives him one last peck on the lips, his thumb brushing gently over Eddie’s cheek.

“I’ll see you soon. Okay, Eds?” He asks.

Eddie rolls his eyes at the nickname, but he nods regardless. “Yeah, I’ll see you.”

He lets Richie walk himself to the front door, not particularly wanting to see Richie walk out the door and leave. He knows he’s being dramatic, that he’ll see Richie again soon, but he’s just preparing himself. Is it not extremely possible that Richie could be leaving for L.A. as soon as tonight, leaving Eddie to be, once again, alone in New York?

With a sigh, Eddie starts to get dressed, trying not to think about it.

* * *

Eddie gets to the diner before Richie does, but that’s not really surprising. Richie is known to be perpetually late, apparently even after all of these years.

It’s a cute little place, right by the water, which Ben and Bev seem to have an affinity for. When Eddie goes outside to join them at their table for six, they both stand up, giving him a hug. Eddie presses a kiss to Bev’s cheek and she squeezes him a little bit tighter.

He waves at both Bill and Mike, who smile at him as he sits down. Eddie notices that they’re holding hands under the table, which makes him smile, too.

“I’m so glad you could come,” Bev gushes. “It was just so hard talking to everyone last night, you know? But I wanted to make sure us losers all got together again.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, of course,” he says. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Do you know where Richie is?” Bev asks, casually enough, but Eddie can see the glint in her eyes. He’s suddenly reminded of the knowing looks both her and Ben had given to him and Richie when they said they were leaving the wedding together. It causes his cheeks to flush slightly.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says with a shrug. “Probably at his hotel. He’ll be here soon.”

Bev looks like she wants to say more, but thankfully she doesn’t push it. Her and Ben start telling a story from the night before, involving some crazy family member of Ben’s, and Eddie listens in amusement.

The waitress comes to take his drink order during the story, and Eddie orders a coffee and a glass of water. He needs the caffeine boost.

He’s just starting to debate if he should text Richie and ask him where the hell he is when he hears, “Well, well, well! Look at all the happy couples!” from behind him.

It’s amazing, the relief that washes over him at just the sound of Richie’s voice. Eddie watches as Ben and Bev both give him hugs, like they’d done for Eddie, and as Richie takes the only empty seat across from Eddie.

“Well, the happy couples and Eddie,” Richie says, a teasing grin on his lips.

“Shut up, dickhead,” Eddie says, but he’s smiling, too.

“Okay, I’m just gonna say it,” Bill starts. “I’m confused. Are you two together?”

Eddie feels his cheeks flush once again. _“What?” _He exclaims.

“I mean, you left Ben and Bev’s wedding together,” Mike joins in. “Bill and I came back from dancing and you two were _gone_.”

Eddie looks across the table at Richie, who’s looking right back at him. It’s not like they’re trying to hide anything from the losers. They just...genuinely don’t know. At least that’s how Eddie feels. _Damn it_, he thinks to himself. They should have talked about this, but there hadn’t been the time.

“I mean, we left together,” Eddie agrees. “But that doesn’t mean anything. We just wanted somewhere to catch up that wasn’t blasting early 2000’s pop music.”

“Mhm,” Richie hums. “We had a lot of catching up to do.”

Eddie does _not _like the sound of his voice. “I will literally murder you if you say another word,” he deadpans.

Richie’s eyes go kind of wide, his mouth dropping open, but Eddie is brought out of his heated glare by Ben patting his shoulder good-naturedly.

“We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t feel comfortable sharing,” he says.

“There’s nothing to talk about!” Eddie says defensively, too loudly. He receives some dirty looks from the other costumers sitting outside as a result. “There’s nothing to talk about,” Eddie repeats, quieter this time. “And even if there was, we shouldn’t be talking about Richie and I. Ben and Bev just got _married_. We should be talking about them.”

Bev shrugs. ”I’m fine talking about any of you losers,” she says affectionately. ”But okay, no Richie and Eddie talk. Bill, tell me about moving to Florida with Mikey. You just up and left Los Angeles?”

Bill shrugs his shoulders, smiling at Mike and then Bev. “I mean, yeah. It seemed like one of the easiest decisions I’d ever made. Everything in L.A. reminded me of my past life with Audra, before returning to Derry, and I was just...tired of it. Plus the writer’s block was brutal.”

Everyone at the table asks him and Mike questions about Florida, somehow always circling back to the alligators there. Bill says he saw one that must have been a ten-footer and everyone promptly loses their shit, making both Bill and Mike laugh happily.

While everyone is talking and laughing, Eddie sneaks a peek over at Richie. It’s easy to do, with him sitting right across from him. Eddie feels badfor somewhat lying that nothing had happened between the two of them, but he doesn’t want the losers knowing about them before _they_ even know what’s going on with them.

As a silent form of reconciliation, Eddie stretches his leg out underneath the table, so that his foot brushes gently against Richie’s. Richie looks over at him, eyebrows slightly raised, and Eddie offers him a small, apologetic smile. A silent _I’m sorry _and _We’ll talk about this later_.

Richie seems to understand, because he smiles too, his foot gently knocking against Eddie’s. Eddie feels his smile grow, but he hides it behind the rim of his coffee cup.

* * *

Brunch passes by too quickly for Eddie’s liking. It’s amazing catching up with the losers in person, and it makes him realize that just sending each other updates in the groupchat is not nearly enough. 

Bill and Mike tell them that if any of the other losers ever find themselves in Florida, they’re free to stay with them. To which Richie responds, “Why the fuck would we find ourselves in Florida?” and makes everyone at the table laugh.

There’s lots of hugs when they’re leaving, maybe too tight and for too long but none of them can bring themselves to care. 

“We’ll do this again sometime,” Bev says. “And it _won’t_ be in another year. Sooner than that, okay?”

They all promise that they will. Everyone tells Ben and Bev to have a good time on their honeymoon (Richie suggestively, which causes Bev to slap him in the arm) and then they’re all going their separate ways. 

Well, kind of. Ben and Bev leave together, and then Mike and Bill, and then, once again, it’s Richie and Eddie. Eddie wonders, briefly, if they’ve always been paired off like this. He doesn’t necessarily believe in fate, but he wonders if they were all meant to end up together like this. He feels wrong for thinking it without Stan there with them, but he‘d seemed really happy with Patty. Maybe it could’ve been the eight of them together, four happy couples, in another life.

“Your mind looks like it’s going at a mile per minute,” Richie tells him.

Eddie blinks, being brought of his thoughts. He shakes his head with a small smile. “It’s just silly stuff,” he promises. 

Richie had taken a cab to the restaurant, but Eddie had driven, so the two of them drive back to Eddie’s apartment together. It’s not far at all from Eddie’s place, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes, so they’re there in no time.

Eddie’s grateful for it. Richie’s leg had been tapping incessantly the entire drive back and it had nearly driven Eddie _insane._

He’s not much better once they’re both inside Eddie’s place. Richie immediately starts pacing in Eddie’s living room.

“Oh my god,” Eddie huffs out, feeling his own anxiety begin to grow. “You’re going to give me a panic attack.”

Richie looks over at him from his place behind the couch, finally stopping his pacing. “Huh?” He asks.

Eddie shakes his head, unable to stop a small smile from forming on his lips. He walks over to Richie, linking their hands together so they’re resting on top of the couch. Richie looks down at them and his own smile begins to form.

“Is there something you want to ask me?” Eddie asks softly. “Because you seem a little nervous. Like, just a little bit.”

“Why’d you tell the losers that nothing happened between us last night?” Richie blurts out abruptly, not even taking a second to banter with Eddie for making fun of him.

Eddie’s mouth drops open slightly in surprise. Okay, so they’re doing this. They’re really doing this. He lets out a steadying breath, looking down so he doesn’t have to meet Richie‘s eyes.

“I don’t know, Rich. What did you want me to tell them? That we had sex?” Eddie asks. He’s joking, but to his surprise Richie gives a little shrug.

“I mean, yeah, I guess,” he says. “That _is _what happened.”

Eddie splutters. “_What?”_ He asks. “You would really tell our friends about all of our private business?” Richie opens his mouth to respond, but Eddie holds up a hand to stop him. “Do _not_ make a joke about private parts right now.”

Richie snorts, no doubt pleased that Eddie knows him well enough to know exactly where his mind had been headed. “Okay, okay,” he relents. “We didn’t have to tell them all of that. But you made it sound like..._nothing _happened. When I’m pretty sure at least _something_ happened last night. Right?”

Eddie feels his heart ache at the fact that Richie would even question that. He leans forward, cupping Richie’s cheek lightly in his hand.

“Yeah, Rich,” he murmurs. “Of course it did.”

He both hears and feels Richie’s shaky exhale of breath as he leans into Eddie’s touch, his free hand coming up to close around Eddie’s. Eddie is suddenly aware that both of their hands are holding each other in some way, and it makes his breath hitch in his throat at how intimate it is. Domestic. He would’ve _never_ done something like this with Myra, and yet it’s such a simple gesture, too.

“So was it just a one night thing?” Richie asks, like it’s taking everything in him to get the words out. “Is that why you didn’t want the losers to know? Because you’re killing me here, Eds.”

Eddie gives him a confused look. “I’m killing you?” He repeats, unsure what Richie means by that.

Richie unlinks his hand from Eddie’s, moving out of his grasp in favor of taking up pacing Eddie’s tiny living room again. Eddie immediately misses his touch. And his stillness.

“Eddie, I’ve been—” Richie starts, stopping his pacing so he can look Eddie in the eyes. There’s a decent amount of space between them, like Richie had wanted to distance himself from Eddie before he said what he had to say. Eddie hears him curse quietly under his breath. “I’ve been in love with you since we were thirteen,” Richie rushes out. “Maybe even before that, who fucking knows? I loved you even when I couldn’t remember who you were. I’d go on dates with people, and it was fucking hopeless. I mean, sometimes it was decent, sure, but none of them were...”

He trails off, but it’s easy to fill in the rest. _None of them were you. _Eddie’s heart feels like its in his throat.

“Richie,” he starts thickly, but Richie cuts him off with a shake of his head.

“Do you remember, when we were at the bar, and you said that you were glad all of the losers were happy?” Richie asks.

Eddie just nods. He’s not sure he trusts his voice right now.

“I wouldn’t have ever said it, but I wanted to tell you that I wasn’t completely happy. I mean, I should have been,” Richie says with a self-depreciating laugh. “My career’s never been better. I’m out, after literal decades. And yet...”

_And yet_, Eddie repeats in his mind.

“I didn’t think you could ever feel the same way about me,” Richie says softly. “You came back to Derry _married_, to a _woman_.”

Eddie grimaces lightly.

“I’d made peace with it, in a way. I mean, I still...” Richie breathes a frustrated sigh. “I still wanted you,” he admits, and chills run down Eddie’s spine at how openly he says it. “But I thought you were happy. I wouldn’t have ever done anything to interfere with that. So imagine my fucking surprise when you showed up to Ben and Bev’s wedding without your ring on, and you told me you’d gotten a divorce, and then you...”

“Kissed you,” Eddie finishes softly.

Richie nods. “Yeah,” he agrees. “And everything after that. I never even thought I’d get this far, Eddie. But it’s killing me not knowing how you feel. If this was just a one-time thing for you, you gotta let me know. And I don’t...I don’t want you to feel like you have to be with me, because of what I just told you. Please don’t feel like that,” Richie whispers.

“_Richie_,” Eddie repeats. Longingly. Comfortingly. Somewhat scoldingly. “I love you, too.”

It’s amazing how natural it feels to say it. Eddie had thought it would be hard, like how he’d choked it out to Myra each morning, but it’s not. Telling Richie he loves him feels like the easiest thing in the world.

Hesitantly, Eddie takes a few steps forward, closing the distance between them. He reaches forward, curling a hand through Richie’s long brown hair.

“I love you,” Eddie says again, testing it out. He feels a spark shoot through him when the words cause Richie to smile at him, looking like he’s close to tears. “I think I always have. I was just...so fucking stupid.”

“That’s not true,” Richie says immediately.

Eddie smiles at him, shaking his head. “No, I was. I had no idea I had a crush on you when we were kids, but now I _know _that I did. God, remember that stupid hammock? How I crawled into it with you? I did _not_ have to do that.”

“You didn’t,” Richie agrees fondly. “But I was glad you did. Even if you knocked my glasses off and stole my comic book.”

Eddie sighs happily at the memory. That was a good day. He tightens his hand in Richie’s hair and leans in further, closing the remaining distance between them so Eddie can press a kiss to his lips. For all the times he couldn’t before. It feels different, kissing Richie when he knows that he’s in love with him. That they’re in love with _each other_. It makes Eddie feel so happy he could cry.

Still, he can’t help but also be worried. It’s amazing that Richie loves him back, but that doesn’t change the fact that he lives all the way in Los Angeles. Eddie breaks the kiss, frowning.

“So what does this mean for us?” He asks.

Richie shakes his head, not comprehending. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...” Eddie starts. “You live in Los Angeles, and I live in New York City. How the hell do we make that work?”

Richie is quiet for a few seconds, but Eddie can practically see his mind working.

It catches Eddie completely off guard when he says, “Come to L.A. with me.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide in surprise. ”_What__?_” He asks. “You’re — you’re kidding, right?”

Richie gives him a _look_. “Eddie, for once in my life I’m being completely serious.” He then sighs, his shoulders dropping slightly. “I’m not saying you’d _love it_ out there, because its really hot and we have earthquakes and the tourists fucking suck. But...I’m not too far from Disneyland, and you’d _love_ In & Out Burger. Like, if I could move to the West Coast all over again just to re-experience their cheese fries for the first time, I‘d do it.”

Eddie laughs lightly at the words. It’s easy to imagine, just packing everything up and moving to L.A. with Richie. He doesn’t doubt he would enjoy it, but that doesn’t mean it’s realistic for him. It almost seems like a fantasy.

“Rich,” he breathes out. “I don’t _not _want to move to L.A. with you, but my entire life is here. I mean, my job—“

“Analyzing risks?” Richie asks.

Eddie glares at him. “Don’t say it like that.”

Richie doesn’t let up. “So you’re telling me you like your job? That it doesn’t bore the shit out of you?”

“It...pays,” Eddie says carefully.

Richie shakes his head. “That doesn’t sound promising at all.”

“Okay, so maybe I don’t like my job!” Eddie exclaims, throwing his hands up. “That means I should just pack up and move across the country with you?”

“Why not?” Richie asks, his own voice raising. “What the hell is keeping you here?”

“I’ve lived here almost my entire life, Richie! Way longer than I lived in Derry,” Eddie says.

“So you want to stay here for the rest of your life, too?” Richie immediately asks.

The question catches Eddie off guard. He blinks, processing it. Does he? Does he really want to stay here for the rest of his life?

Richie takes Eddie’s silence as a means to keep talking. “When Bill said that L.A. started to remind him of everything before Derry, of Audra, do you...do you feel like that with New York? Does it remind you of Myra?”

Eddie takes a moment to think about it. It _does_ sort of feel like his life has hit a rut. Like something should have changed after Derry (something more than just divorcing his wife) but ultimately didn’t. Was that thing having a life with Richie?

“Sometimes I get nervous I’m gonna pass her in the street, or see her in a restaurant or something,” Eddie admits quietly. “Which is stupid, because New York is fucking huge, but...it’s not impossible.”

Richie’s eyes soften, and he reaches out to take Eddie’s hand. “You wouldn’t have to worry about that in L.A. You’d be completely free from her.”

Eddie lets out a shaky breath, squeezing Richie’s hand for support. “What if I hate it there, or I can’t find a job, or—“

“Then you can leave my sorry ass,” Richie says, his lips quirked up into a smile. “Or we could move somewhere else together, if you’re not sick of me by then.”

Eddie finds it really hard to imagine ever being sick of Richie, especially after being apart for so long.

“Shit,” he breathes. “I feel like a teenager making an impulsive decision because of a boy I like.”

Richie grins at him. “Yeah, but it’s okay if he’s a _really cute _boy.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, unable to fight the smile that’s growing on his face. He can’t believe he’s doing this, but he’s lived so many years of his life without Richie. He can’t imagine letting him slip through his fingers again.

“Okay,” Eddie says decisively. “I’ll move in with you. If you‘re absolutely sure—“

He’s cut off by Richie’s mouth pressing eagerly against his, both of his hands cupping Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie chuckles lightly in surprise against his lips before he’s kissing him back just as enthusiastically, his hands grasping at the back of Richie’s shirt.

“I’m so fucking sure,” Richie says against his mouth. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my entire life.”

“Okay,” Eddie repeats, trying to act like those words don’t send a thrill shooting through him. “I’ll have to put in my two weeks notice...”

He feels Richie slump against him, the smile slipping off of his mouth. “Your _what?”_ He asks.

Eddie blinks at him. He’s surprised that Richie is surprised. “I can’t just _quit_, Rich. That’s a guaranteed bad reference from my boss, and I’m gonna need the opposite of that if I’m looking for jobs in L.A.”

Richie wraps his arms more snugly around Eddie’s waist, burying his head in his shoulder. Eddie breathes out a huff of laughter and hugs him back. He must’ve showered before meeting up with the losers for brunch, because he smells nice. Clean.

Delicately, he says, “Fuck.”

Eddie plays with the hair at the nape of his neck. “It’s only two weeks,” he says quietly.

“Yeah, and we only waited twenty-eight years to tell each other how we feel,” Richie snarks.

Eddie pulls away so that Richie can see him smile. “So then two weeks will feel like _nothing_.”

Richie’s mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile too, but he inevitably gives in. “You’re so fucking cute, Eds.”

Eddie hadn’t been expecting that. He feels his cheeks flush, even as he tries to look annoyed. “I hate everything about that sentence,” he says, but it’s a lie and they both know it.

Richie brushes his fingers lightly over the bare skin of Eddie’s arm, causing goosebumps to form. “You wanna take a nap? My flight isn’t until later tonight,” Richie says. Eddie must give him a questioning look because Richie snorts, a smirk forming on his lips. “And yes, I mean _actually nap_, you perv.”

Eddie scoffs, smacking Richie’s hand away. “I never fucking know with you!” He exclaims. Still, he thinks of curling up in bed with Richie, the both of them holding each other for what will be the last time in two weeks. “Okay,” he says softly. “We can take a nap.”

When they’re both in bed, Richie on his back with both of his arms wrapped around Eddie, who’s curled snugly into his right side, Eddie thinks about how much he’s going to miss this. He knows it’ll only be for two weeks, but it seems sort of unfair that they have to be apart right after confessing their feelings for each other, and being able to do stuff like this.

Richie kisses the worried crease between Eddie’s brows. “Sleep,” he tells him quietly. “No more worrying.”

Eddie likes that Richie can tell what he’s thinking, or in this case, worrying about. Though he supposes it’s not that much of a surprise. Richie always was the person who knew him best, and vice versa.

Eddie leans up to press a soft, slow kiss to Richie’s mouth before he lays his head back on Richie’s shoulder. He closes his eyes, feeling warm and safe and happy, and falls asleep.

* * *

***Two weeks later***

It’s strange for Eddie to think about how, the last time he was getting off of a plane, it was in New York. He’d been absolutely dreading it, filled with worry about how much Myra would lay into him for blowing her off.

Now he’s getting off his plane in _Los Angeles_, fucking LAX, and he’s not filled with dread anymore. Not even close. Instead, Eddie’s brimming with excitement at the thought of seeing Richie again. Talking on the phone and FaceTiming was just not the same as being with someone in person.

Richie had told him to meet him at baggage claim, so that’s where Eddie goes. There’s multiple different claims for all of the flights happening, which means Eddie almost gets lost more times than he’d like to admit, but he eventually finds the one for his flight.

Which means he also finds Richie, standing there, waiting for him. He’s got a pair of black Ray-Ban sunglasses over his eyes, and he’s dressed in a gray short-sleeve graphic tee, tan cargo shorts and black Nike slip ons. He looks like a hot fucking mess, but Eddie realizes with a sort of thrill that Richie is _his_ hot fucking mess.

“Hey,” Eddie greets as he heads over to him.

Immediately, Richie turns to look at him, his face breaking into a huge grin.

“Eds, holy shit!” He exclaims. He starts to make his way over to Eddie as well, meeting him halfway, and then they’re nearly knocking each other over with the force of their hug. Eddie wraps his arms tightly around Richie’s neck as Richie’s go around Eddie’s waist. Richie is so excited that he picks Eddie up off the floor, just the slightest bit, in a way that has Eddie laughing and telling him to put him down.

“You’re really here,” Richie breathes, once Eddie has been placed safely back onto the ground. “In _L.A. _I can’t believe it.”

“Well, you better get used to it,” Eddie murmurs. “Because I plan on being here for a really long time.”

Richie straight up beams at him. “Oh yeah? Is that so?” He asks.

Eddie can just picture how they must look to everyone else in the airport; both of them grinning stupidly at each other with zero space between them.

“Mhm,” Eddie hums, and then they’re both leaning in, their lips meeting together in a heated kiss. Eddie has no idea how he went all of his life without kissing Richie Tozier, because just going two weeks without it had nearly killed him.

He knows they’re in public, and Eddie should be embarrassed, but he’s really not. Especially not when Richie’s hand comes up to cup Eddie’s cheek, his thumb brushing softly over the raised skin of Eddie’s scar.

“I can’t believe we’re that couple that makes out in an airport,” Eddie breathes, once air becomes a necessity and they have to pull away.

“We deserve to be that couple,” Richie says. And then, “I love you so fucking much.”

Eddie knows there will be a time in the future where those words don’t catch him off guard, but they do now. His heart flutters pathetically in his chest and he grins, leaning in for one more small peck.

“I love you, too,” he says easily.

Richie presses a kiss to Eddie’s forehead that makes him blush and then takes Eddie’s hand in his. “Let’s get your stuff so I can show you my place, you’re gonna love it.” Richie then pauses, his eyebrows raising. “Wait, holy shit. _Our_ place.”

Eddie laughs at him, but he’d be lying if he said those words didn’t send a thrill through him. “_Our_ place,” he agrees easily.

They get Eddie’s luggage, and Eddie listens dutifully as Richie tells him all about the place. They’re still hand-in-hand, which is good, because it makes it easier for Richie to guide Eddie over to his car, since Eddie has no idea where he’s going.

While Richie is still excitedly talking, swinging his and Eddie’s arms together, Eddie can’t help but think _this is it_. _This is what’s been missing my entire life, what I was supposed to find_.

And yeah, maybe they were a little late. But not too late. They still get to have this, the holding hands and kissing in airports and moving in together and just...being _boyfriends_. It’s something that Eddie never believed he could have, but _god_ is he glad to be wrong. He loves Richie, so much, and Richie loves him too, and they get to have this...this _life_ together.

Eddie can’t imagine anything better.

(He _does _end up loving Richie’s place. Although he thinks he’d love it anywhere, as long as Richie was there, too.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you thought in the comments!! and check out the tumblr post: 
> 
> https://iconicbane.tumblr.com/post/188477750306/what-doesnt-kill-me-makes-me-want-you


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